Love Between the Pages – by Rae Shawn #3
I pumped my fist in the air, choosing not to respond to the innuendo. “Told you this place was …” I paused.
“Orgasmic?” Emani chuckled and stuffed the last bite of her taco in her mouth, her tongue peeking out to gather sauce and a piece of onion from her thumb before she started chewing. My focus fell to the action, then I realized I was staring.
“It’s not the only meat that can bring you that bliss,” I muttered.
I’d thought I’d uttered it low enough, but Emani’s body shifted in her seat as she looked at me with brows raised.
“Sorry, that was inappropriate.”
She shook her head as she swallowed. “Not really,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about it too, but I should probably stop flirting. I shouldn’t get involved with someone I don’t know very well and who works so close to my job. You seem lovely, but maybe we should pump the brakes.”
I nodded solemnly. “Yeah. I get it. How about we keep hanging out and see where things go? Friendship, something more, or just folks who both love books and will likely run into each other in the city.”
“I’d like that.” She grinned and stood, collecting her trash. I stopped her, taking it and throwing away the containers myself.
“I should head home,” she said. “I have more unpacking I need to do. Plus, the school year begins soon, and I’m so not fully prepared.”
“Good luck.” I walked her to the front door. “I hope to see you again.”
“Me too.” Emani’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer. “We have each other’s numbers. Maybe we’ll put them to use.”
I smiled and nodded before watching her head to her car, waiting for her to get in and drive off. Once her taillights disappeared from view, I closed and locked my door. One thing was clear, I hoped more would come of this blossoming relationship.
Emani
Averie thought I should’ve taken Darius for a ride, but I wasn’t the first-night type of girl anymore. It hadn’t ended well the last few times I’d tried it.
Darius seemed really intelligent and quite interesting beyond his looks, but I wanted to solidify knowing more about him before anything potentially happened between us.
Although, watching him wrap his mouth around his food had had my mind wandering almost as much as the sparkle in his eyes.
Plus his dangerous smile was a perfect mix of innocence with a devil’s pact.
Something told me his mouth could work wonders, and it had taken everything to leave his home instead of becoming his dessert.
As I walked through the farmers’ market, I thought back to our conversation a few days ago.
We had a mutual love for books, movies, artwork and food.
I found myself wanting to know more about him, but neither he nor I had called or texted the other.
The tidbit I'd heard about his family had been interesting, but I thought it better to wait until we knew each other more to ask further about his lineage.
I may have loved the visual arts, but history was a second close interest, especially when it came to Black families and innovators.
As I went about picking a few bell peppers, the familiar aroma of cedarwood and jasmine floated toward me. I turned and bumped into Darius, dropping what was in my hand. He instinctively caught it while stabilizing me.
“I’m sorry, I—” His eyes met mine, his hand on my waist. “Emani.”
A slow smile crept upon his face before he stepped away slightly.
“Hi.” My voice came out soft and light, heat creeping up my neck.
He bit his lip before lifting the yellow bell pepper to me. “Sorry about knocking this out of your hand.”
I took it, our fingers brushing against one another. I inhaled sharply and saw him do the same, even though it wasn’t audible. I swallowed and shrugged, trying to suppress my excitement with seeing him. “I turned around too quickly. That’s my bad.”
He studied my face before taking another step back. “Exploring the last Saturday farmer’s market, I see.”
I nodded, raising a brow. “Yeah, I live pretty close, so I walked over. This is a little bit far from your house, though, isn’t it?”
Darius chuckled and reached around my shoulder. When he pulled back, a spaghetti squash came into view. “It’s the start of the season for these, and I kind of love them. This farmer’s market is always my first choice to grab them because the other one that has a good harvest is over in Long Beach.”
I frowned and shook my head. “That’s far as hell.”
“Especially if there’s traffic on the 710,” he laughed. “It’s nice running into you again. I wanted to call, but I didn’t want to come on too strong.”
A chill ran through me, but instead of immediately responding, I smiled and shifted to pay for the vegetables I’d chosen. After he picked a few more items, he paid and followed me over to the next stand.
“So, I take it you didn’t want me to call—either that, or you don’t want to admit you wanted me to.”
I smacked my lips and lifted my attention to him. “I was getting ready for the school year, and every time I thought about messaging or calling, it was late. You wanted me to hit you up at booty call hours?”
He smirked, that adorable slight dimple revealing itself. “I wouldn’t have minded it.”
I shook my head, fighting back a grin. “How about we pick up where we left off getting to know one another?”
Darius chuckled and waved me toward the next stand. “I’m an open book. What would you like to know?”
“Any hidden girlfriend, wife, or situationship I need to be aware of?” I rolled my tongue against the inside of my cheek and raised a brow. “I’ve heard some horror stories from friends in the past. Not about you, but yeah. Even though I've been to your house, I'm still gonna ask.”
He snorted and shifted his head as he tried to hide his amusement. “I’m a very faithful man. If I were with someone, I wouldn’t be showing an interest in you.”
I gnawed my lip and looked at a box of honeydews in front of me. I remembered him saying he liked honeydew agua frescas. I picked one up, knocking against the outside of it before paying for it.
“Any other questions?” He moved through the market with me.
I flitted from stand to stand, my bags growing heavy as I thought of other questions to ask. He didn’t press me to speak and didn’t find the need to fill the comfortable silence between us either. He did take the heftier bags from me, even though I told him that was unnecessary.
“I suppose I never asked, but how old are you?”
He grinned. “Honestly, I hadn’t thought of that either. I’m thirty-seven. You?”
“Thirty-three. I’ll be thirty-four in November.”
“I hope I get to tell you happy birthday then,” he said.
My lips pulled to one side as I suppressed my smile. “You ever been married? Have kids? Thinking about kids?”
He smiled softly. “I married my best friend after college. We’d dated a couple of years and it took us a few more to realize while we loved each other, we were better off as friends. We did have a daughter together. She’s twelve. Actually, she goes to Butler.”
He had an ex-wife and a daughter, one who attended the school I'd be teaching at. There was a possibility she could end up in my class, but there were two other visual arts teachers and a third was hired on with me, so the chance wasn’t that high.
It seemed he had a good relationship with his ex, though, so if anything did develop between me and him, I wouldn’t have to worry about that drama—hopefully.
“Oh? Nice. So, you and her mother, like, co-parent?”
He nodded. “She lives with her mom and her stepdad because I often do a lot of the library community events that have me working random hours. Occasionally, I do a bit of archival work with the main library down in LA as well. So she went from splitting her time evenly to weekdays staying with them. I wanted her to have stability.”
Good, I was right about the no drama. I nodded, listening intently as we looked at items on other stands.
“She was supposed to come with me today, but her friends wanted to have a ‘last weekend before school starts’ movie and mall trip.” He rolled his eyes and pouted. “Straight up deserted me for them. How rude.”
I chuckled. “Get ready. She’ll be wanting to spend a lot more time with them than you from now on,” I said. “I’m sure she loves you and will squeeze you into her busy social calendar, though.”
“I hope so.” A thoughtful expression coated his features. “It doesn’t bother you that I’m divorced and have a pre-teen?”
I shook my head. “You’re thirty-seven. If you hadn’t had some type of past, I’d be concerned that there was something wrong with you.
” I saw his raised brow and quickly added, “Sometimes men who are closer to forty without any type of baggage can come off as problematic. Why isn’t there past relationships, children, or something? You get me?”
His lips gathered on one side of his mouth. “So, because I have an ex-wife and a child, I’m not problematic?”
“Oh, you very well could be, but I get the sense that you aren’t,” I grinned.
“I believe that you were genuine when you said the relationship didn’t work because y’all were meant to be friends.
The way I heard no bitterness when you spoke of your daughter living with her mother and stepfather seemed to confirm it. ”
“I could be a very good liar.” He winked.
I teetered my head. “I like to think I’ve gotten better at sussing out bad actors.”
His chuckle sent a shiver down my spine. “So, what about you? Any exes or children that I should be aware of? And does that problematic behavior extend to women if they don’t have any baggage?”
We headed for the exit of the farmers’ market, closest to the direction of my apartment, me naturally going that way—we’d grabbed a few other items along the way.
“You don’t have to walk me home.”
“Is it ok that I want to?”
My lips curved into a smile as I nodded. After a minute or so, I answered his previous questions.